It meant somthing
by Grell Sadistic Sutcliff
Summary: Germany felt like Francis stepped out of line. How many hearts did he break just by one simple action of pulling the trigger?


War had broke out once again, between the Frenchman and the German. They never enjoyed each others presence, but at least they could learn to live with each other.

" Francis just can't deal with the fact that Italy enjoys being with Germany more then with this family. Which makes sense..."

Britain sat there in his stuffy town house, reading the daily news and drinking a cup of tea. His normal morning routine. He lifted his head from the paper as he heard a knock on his door, a sigh slipped his lips as he neatly folded the paper in half then again and placed it nicely on the dining table before heading over to the front door to answer it. Opening the door he saw Italy standing there freaking out with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Italy, is everything okay? What's wrong with you now? Did someone decline the pasta you made or something?"

The Italian shook his head quickly, crying more as he pointed over into the street. Arthur looked over to where Feliciano was pointing and strained his eyes to see what had happened. He focused on the large group of people that crowded the street.

"Uhh, what's going on?"

The Brit stared off at the crowd as he asked the question.

"It's big brother France..."

"Oh, what is that Frog doing? Showing off his famous sex positions or something perverted like that?"

Italy shook his head as more tears rolled down his face, his whole face just soaked with salty moisture.

"He's... He's not moving... He got shot...!"

Italy cried out and fell to his knees with his palms covering his face.

The Englishman's body ran cold, all colour from his face gone. He couldn't move, he wanted to run toward the crowd, he wanted turn away, he looked down at the Italian crying his eyes out. Arthur swallowed the hard lump in his throat, looking down to his feet and clenching one fist and digging his nails into the wooden door frame. Francis... Francis... This is just another joke... Italy never plays around, and even if he did he would never be this convincing. He shot his head up and stared at the crowd.

"FRANCIS!"

Arthur bolted from the door toward the large group of people, the space between him and the Frenchman seemed so far, it felt like it was taking him forever to get to Francis. Letting out another cry to the nations name he pushed and shoved his way through the crowd. Finally making it to the center and saw him, Francis. Lying there with blood spilling into the cracks of the cobble stone road.

"How... No... It can't be real."

He lifted his gaze from the frozen man and gazed at the German that stood over him with an old military gun held to his side. The man with the gun spoke as he stared down at the Frenchman.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before trying to take Italy from me."

Arthur glared at Ludwig, fighting tears that wanted to escape and show his feeling for the Frenchman.

"How could you!? He was just protecting his little brother from a Brute like you!"

He ran to the fallen nation, gazing over him. Looking for any sign of movement.

Ludwig spoke, with his deep German accent.

"He stepped out of line, he should have known better than to even think of steppi-"

Arthur snapped his glare up to the German, anger filled his stomach, his eyes and his mind. Having Alfred ripped from him and now Francis. His eyes filled with more anger and saddness as each moment passed.

"Stepping out of line?! Out of line?! How did you feel when your old brother, Gilbert, was ripped from you?! Huh?! Have you seen Italy?!"

Arthur slipped one of his arms under the nation and lifted him up a little. Tears now rolling down his bright red angered cheeks.

"You weren't supposed to leave me, Frog. You were supposed to be stronger. The French nation, you were strong. You still are, fight! Fight for your life! Don't die on me!"

Ludwig stared down at then thought for a moment, about Prussia, his big older brother. The one that raised him from when he was just an infant. He was gone now, he had been for a long time. But when he disappeared from the German's life, well Ludwig almost lost his own sanity. He thought about Italy, looking around the crowd then seeing a gap in the crowd from where the Englishman bursted through. He saw the Italian on his knees crying into his hands.

"Mein gott, Italy!"

The German nation dropped the gun and ran toward Feliciano.

"Italy! I'm sorry!"

Feliciano heard Ludwig's voice and began to cry harder, he looked up to the German with a fear and sadness in his eyes. He got up from where he was sitting and ran off down the street away from the German.

"Leave me alone! You murder!"

Germany continued to chase after Italy as he ran further and further down the road.

Arthur sat there with the Frenchman in his arms, tears and blood covered his body as he held the body. His body.

"Why, this can't be the ending. This isn't right."

The Englishman fell asleep crying and holding the other in his arms, as tight as ever. He woke up hours later and found that the crowd of people has vanished. It was dark, the black night sky covered them, only a few stars to gaze at. He looked around him, looking for something an answer to the pain he was in.

"I honestly can't live with out you, you were my only friend. The bickering, the fighting, the time we shared with each other. It all meant something. Matthew and Arthur, they mean something. They are our children. You can't just leave us hear alone. You can't just leave me alone. I need you."

He saw something shimmer on the street as the street light flickered on for a moment. He reached for the the shimmering object and gripped it. It was the gun that shot Francis. His breathing grew deep as he felt the very thing that took the Frenchman's life.

"This bloody thing! I shou-!"

He thought for a moment, closing his eyes and swallowing hard as he slipped the barrel of the gun into his mouth, he shivers as the hard metal slid against his teeth. Tears started to spill from his closed emerald eyes. His last thought,

I love-

He pulled the trigger before he could even finish the thought. His body landing on top of the cold Frenchman's body. The Englishman's blood began to mix with Francis's, spreading the blood further down the road between the cracks of the cobble stone.


End file.
